Defector
by JayaLynne
Summary: Imperial Navy Flight Officer Tycho Celchu can't call home to Alderaan. Rumors are swirling. What's really true?
1. Chapter 1: Decision

Imperial Navy Flight Officer Tycho Celchu sat at the communications terminal in his room, and, for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few days, tried calling home. He had just been talking to his family a few days earlier, on his birthday, when the connection suddenly went out. That, by itself, wasn't unusual. His father owned the largest telecommunications conglomerate on Alderaan and glitches happened. What was odd was that he hadn't been able to raise anyone since then. He had tried his parents, his sisters, his fiancé, a couple of cousins, a few friends. Nothing. It seemed like the signal wasn't even getting through. Like the orbital satellites weren't even picking up the call. Tycho wasn't panicking about it; if something really bad had happened, someone would have called him. And his father was a stickler about not using any other company's equipment. Still, it made him uneasy.

Tycho gave up again and decided to head to a mess hall. His squadron was off for the remainder of the day, so he figured he'd get a quick bite, then head to the gym.

Tycho stood in line at the mess hall and looked around the room to see if any of his squadron mates were there. He wasn't extraordinarily close with any of them, even his wing mate and roommate, Adan Berkesh, a Coruscant native. Tycho has always been a bit of an outsider wherever he went. Back home, most of his family were vocal Imperial supporters, putting them at odds with most of Alderaanian society, and especially the royal family and senators. On the other hand, he had less harsh opinions of the Organas than some of his family. His father was prone to ranting about them as traitors to the Empire, fools, rebels, terrible for Alderaan; and about Leia Organa in particular as too young, too inexperienced, and too disrespectful to be a senator. Tycho didn't agree with their opposition to the Empire, but he thought Organas did care about Alderaan and its people.

He had thought he would find more like-minded people after he joined the Navy. But he found he got along best with people when they _didn't _know he was from Alderaan. It made people a bit suspicious, both because of rumored rebel support on Alderaan and Alderaan's pacifist philosophy. It seemed he couldn't win.

Tycho didn't see anyone he knew in the hall so he sat at an empty corner of a table by himself. He started to eat when the conversation behind him caught his attention.

"Did you hear about the rebel incursion on Scarif the other day?"

"Yeah, I heard the whole archive base got destroyed. Nothing left of it. Rebel scum."

"I heard it was the same thing they did to Alderaan."

"Yeah I heard that too."

Tycho let a bit of food fall off his fork. He had heard something happened on Scarif, but no details. And certainly nothing about Alderaan. Nothing left of it? What did that mean? He listened more closely.

"I heard it was some new weapon they have."

"I heard their senator was behind it."

"I heard they wiped out the Holy City of Jedah with it too."

"That makes sense. One of those rebel leaders, Saw Guerra, was supposed to be hiding out there."

Tycho frowned. That...couldn't be right. He believed any rebel would attack Scarif, and knew Guerra would attack anything and everything that suited him. Tycho had gotten high marks in his intelligence classes at the academy for distinguishing between terrorist groups like Guerra's, and more political groups like the one the Organas were supposedly a part of, that tended to restrict itself to military targets. Scarif made sense for either group; Jedah for Guerra. But not Alderaan for either of them.

_Then why can't I call home?_

The unease he'd been feeling earlier threatened to explode into full blown panic. Tycho fought it back down. Even all the rebel groups combined didn't have enough firepower to devastate an entire planet. The timing just had to be a coincidence.

Tycho decided he wasn't hungry anymore. He threw out the tray and headed back to his room. As he changed into gym clothes, he contemplated trying to call one more time. He shook his head. _Everything is fine_, he told himself.

At the gym, he set a treadmill speed to slightly higher than normal, hoping the workout wouldn't leave him time to think. After ten minutes and nearly falling off three times, Tycho gave up on that too. He couldn't focus. He went back to the room. Adan was there this time.

"Oh, there you are," he said. "I was just about to come looking for you. Squadron got called back in."

"For what?" Tycho asked as he pulled a flight suit out of his locker.

"Not sure," Adan said. "Everyone's down time is being called off. I'm betting it has to do with all the recent rebel attacks there have been rumors of."

"Oh yeah," Tycho said, turning away. "That makes sense."

"Have you heard the biggest rumor?" Adan asked.

Tycho half turned back around. "I don't know. I've heard a bunch of rumors."

"I heard," Adan said, "that Grand Moff Tarkin himself was killed in one of the latest attacks."

Tycho's eyes widened. "Moff Tarkin, really?" Tarkin was supposed to be some kind of military genius, personally favored by the Emperor. If the rebels could get him…

Adan put his arm around Tycho's shoulders and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I also heard," he said, "that your senator was personally involved in that attack."

Tycho recoiled a bit. The Organas weren't _assassins. _Still, Tarkin was a military target. "Yeah, that's possible," Tycho said.

Adan gave him a sloppy grin and a slap on the back. "Come on," he said. "Let's get to the squad room."

Tycho finished getting dressed and followed Adan to the squad room. Most of the rest of the squadron was already there. "Berkesh! Celchu! Over here!" Their flight leader, Cal Droman waved them over. "Bet this is about all the rumors," Cal said.

"Bet you're right," Adan said.

"Dirty fucking rebels." That was Salta Pelino, Cal's wingmate. She pushed some hair out of her face and threw Tycho a look. "Maybe you'll get the honor of putting some holes in your senator's ship," she said.

"Does she have to be on it?" Cal asked. "She's got a pretty face. Would be kind of a waste."

"Pretty faces mean less than politics," Tycho said.

"Right you are, my friend," Adan said.

"Squadron, attention!"

Everyone in the room snapped to a standing position as the squadron commander and executive officer entered the room.

"At ease! Have a seat." Squadron Commander Ceraon Kint stood at the head of the room and addressed the group. "Ladies and gentlemen. My fellow Imperial Warriors. I'm sure you have all been hearing the same rumors I have of increased rebel activity and the devastation they've wrought. I'm not at liberty to confirm or deny any specific rumor. However, I can tell you the increased activity is real. And I can tell you, the Empire...the Empire has taken some losses."

The buzz of sidebar conversations increased. "He must mean on Scarif, right?" Salta said.

"Shh!" Cal said.

Commander Kint continued. "There is a briefing scheduled for tomorrow morning at Galactic Standard 0600 in the hangar bay. Until then, consider yourselves on high alert. Personal communications have been disabled. If you are not in your rooms, the mess hall, or the gym, you are wrong. Anyone caught disobeying orders will be court martialed. What are your questions?"

Tycho glanced around the room, hoping no one had any questions. He felt sick and just wanted to go back to his room and lie down. At least something of the rumors was true. And now he couldn't even try calling home again.

"Very well," Commander Kint said when no one spoke up. "Flight leaders take charge. You're dismissed until 0600." The commander left the room.

"Okay you three," Cal said to his flight mates. "Get back to your rooms. You better not do anything but eat, sleep, or shit until 0600. You wanna work out, do push-ups in your room." He looked at Tycho. "What's the matter with you?"

Tycho felt flush. "Nothing, I just...was wondering how many losses we took."

"Yeah, the base at Scarif wasn't that big, was it?" Salta asked.

"It was the entire structural archives," Cal said. "That's a huge loss."

"And it's not like we had much of a garrison on Alderaan," Adan said.

Cal looked at Tycho again. "Hey," he said. "You know anything?"

"No," Tycho said, more quickly than he meant to. Now all three of them were looking at him. "I just… I've been trying to call home for three days and I can't get through."

"Hm." Cal folded his arms.

"At all?" Adan said.

"At all," Tycho said.

"Dirty fucking rebels," Salta said.

"Well, at least we won't have to worry about rebels on Alderaan anymore," Adan said.

"Right," Tycho mumbled.

"Droman!" They looked at where the squadron executive officer was still standing by the door. "Get your people the fuck out of here before I court martial you all myself!"

"Yes Sir!" Cal pointed at them. "All right. Get the fuck out. I don't want to see any of you until 0600." He walked off.

Tycho followed Adan back to the room. "You going to get food?" Adan asked after he finished changing out of his uniform.

"I'm not hungry," Tycho said. Even with his back turned, Tycho could feel Adan looking at him. Finally Adan left. Tycho flopped onto his bed. He looked at the comms console. Tycho shook his head. _Not worth it,_ he thought. He got up and paced the small room. But that seemed to make him more anxious, so he sat again. Finally, simply for lack of anything better to do, he climbed under the covers and tried to sleep.

* * *

Ten minutes before 0600, Tycho stood at the end of his squadron line in formation. He felt light headed. He still hadn't eaten and he had barely slept. Every time he fell asleep he awoke a few minutes later thinking his comms console had gone off, and his sisters or cousins or fiancé was calling to let him know they were okay. Or it was his father, about to go on a raging rant about the Organas. But each time it was only his imagination.

Tycho looked around the bay. Four wings of fighters and their support crews shared this bay. Over four hundred people stood in formation. Probably every other bay on the ship was just as packed. Tycho wondered if any other Alderaanians were in this formation.

At exactly 0600, a holoprojector descended from the ceiling. An image of Vice Admiral Perrault flickered to life. "Honorable Warriors of our glorious Empire," he began. "No doubt you have heard of the devastating and cowardly attacks rebel forces have inflicted upon our comrades in recent days. Our forces have taken heavy losses. The entire garrison and structural archives on Scarif are lost. The Holy City of Jedah has been razed. Alderaan has been destroyed. We have lost one of our most dedicated leaders and heroes, Grand Moff Tarkin, to these criminals and bandits."

Tycho stopped listening. Alderaan destroyed. What did that mean? Were there survivors? Did anyone check? There were billions of people on Alderaan. The rebels couldn't possibly have killed _everyone._ Could they?

Tycho caught a few more words from the admiral about the Empire having destroyed the rebel weapon and about the Emperor having disbanded the Senate in order to impose greater security measures across all systems. Tycho supposed that made sense. At least his father wouldn't have a reason to rant about the Organas anymore. Not that that would necessarily stop him. Except… was his father even alive? Was anyone?

"For the Empire!"

Tycho snapped his head up and threw his arm in the air along with everyone else. He really hadn't been paying attention. It seemed the admiral was finished speaking. The holoprojector shut off and rose back toward the ceiling. The formation started to break up.

"Trinity Squadron," Commander Kint said. "We've got simulator training scheduled. Bay twenty-five. Move out."

Tycho followed his squadron to the simulator bay and climbed into his assigned cockpit. There was a lot of conversation buzz, but no one had spoken to him.

"Three flight, check in," Cal said.

"Trinity Ten, acknowledged," Salta said.

"Trinity Eleven, acknowledged," Adan said.

Tycho sat, waiting for the last acknowledgement. _Oh shit, that's me. _He fumbled for the comms switch. "Trinity Twelve, acknowledged."

"Get your head in the game, Celchu," Cal said. "No one's got time for bullshit. We've got rebels to snuff out."

"Yes Sir," Tycho said.

Tycho spent the rest of the day trying to focus on his flying. He forced himself to eat during a break. Every time a rebel ship came up on his targeting scope, he imagined that pilot being part of the operation that destroyed Alderaan, whatever that even meant. Tycho missed most of his targets. It wasn't like him. He was one of the best in the squadron, usually, despite being junior. The simulator lurched forward and he hit his head on the console. It was the fifth time he'd died that day. His brain kept going back to the same idea. The rebels simply didn't have the capacity. Or a reason. But the Empire…

"Twelve, get out of the cockpit." Cal sounded angry.

Tycho sighed. He pulled his helmet off and climbed out of the cockpit more slowly than he meant to. Cal was already waiting for him at the bottom.

Cal shoved him into the wall of the simulator. "You better get your shit together Celchu. I would think you, of all people, after all we've heard today, would be the first to run out front to make some rebels eat shit and die. So I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you'd better fucking fix it. You hear me?"

"Yes Sir," Tycho mumbled.

Cal shoved him into the wall again. "I said, do you fucking hear me, Flight Officer Celchu?"

Tycho snapped up straighter. "Yes Sir," he said more clearly.

"Good. Now get your ass back in that cockpit and act like the fucking Imperial Officer that you are." Cal shoved him into the wall one more time, then walked off.

Tycho climbed back up to the cockpit, reminding himself with each step to go faster. He put his helmet back on.

"Three flight, check in," Cal snapped.

"Trinity Ten, acknowledged."

"Trinity Eleven, acknowledged."

"Trinity Twelve, acknowledged."

"Good," Cal said. "We've got two runs left today. Stay focused."

Tycho managed not to die the rest of the day. His shooting was better than earlier, but not to his usual standard. At least he didn't get yelled at again.

The next morning, Tycho followed Adan to breakfast. Cal had instituted a new rule the night before, that Three Flight would now do everything together: train, eat, work out. Cal hadn't specified if that included down time, but Tycho suspected that would depend on whether Cal actually wanted to see them every waking second of the day. Which meant probably not. They sat at a table where Cal was waiting. "Where's Salta?" Adan asked.

Cal snorted. "Late again."

A few minutes later, Salta slid into the seat next to Cal. "What the fuck, Pelino," Cal said. "Just because you come from the women's barracks doesn't mean you get a pass on timeliness."

Salta bristled. "I'm not late because I'm a _woman,_" she said.

"Yeah? What's your better excuse?"

"Catching up on the rumor mill," she said. She started to eat.

Cal glared at her. "That's an even worse excuse," he said.

Salta leaned forward. "Juiciest one yet," she said.

"No more fucking rumors," Cal said.

Salta shrugged. "Fine, if you like." She kept eating.

For once, Tycho found himself in full agreement with Cal. Adan had other ideas. "Okay, I'll bite," he said. "What's the rumor?"

"I said, no more fucking rumors," Cal said.

"Yeah, I've had enough rumors too," Tycho said.

"See there?" Cal said. "Leave the poor Alderaanian alone. We've got real work to do." Tycho frowned.

"Aw, but this has nothing to do with him," Salta whined. "And it's juicy."

Cal rolled his eyes. "Fine. Spit it out and get on with it."

Salta leaned forward again. "So," she said. "One of the rebels who was involved in the recent attacks?" She lowered her voice. "A Jedi."

Adan dropped his fork. "What?"

"Where the fuck did you hear that garbage?" Cal said.

"Apparently the rebels themselves are saying it," Salta.

"Wow," Adan said.

"That's just rebel propaganda," Cal said. "They're just trying to scare people. Not even true."

"But...what if it is?" Adan said, picking up his fork. "I mean, who else but a Jedi could -"

"Now you two listen to me, and you listen good and proper," Cal said pointing at them. "There. Are. No. Jedi. They were traitors to the Empire and they were killed. So unless you want to argue that the Lord Darth Vader himself got sloppy and missed some, then I don't want to hear any more garbage rumors and I definitely don't want to hear any more rebel propaganda. Understand?" They both mumbled an acknowledgement. "What's up with you, Celchu?"

Tycho looked up. "My father used to go on rants about the Jedi sometimes," he said. "He hated them about as much as he hated the Organas." Tycho surprised himself by talking so easily about his father in the past tense. _You don't know for certain they're dead,_ he reminded himself.

"See, that's what loyalty to the Empire looks like," Cal said. "Now hurry up and finish eating. We've got another sim day today."

The simulator training was much the same as it had been the day before, except Tycho only died once. He saved Adan at least twice and even got some praise from Cal and Commander Kint for good maneuvering. It almost felt normal.

During a break, someone from Two Flight got caught spreading a rumor about the recent attacks having involved Imperial defectors. Not just rebels and spies, but people actually entrusted with Imperial service betraying their oath of office. Commander Kint gathered everyone around. "Listen up Trinity Squadron. The rumor mill stops here. If you didn't get it from official channels, it doesn't exist. The next person I catch spreading rumors will get written up for insubordination. The next person I catch spreading _rebel propaganda _will be submitted to the Wing commander for court martial. Is that clear?"

"Yes Sir!" the squadron chimed together.

"Get back to work."

* * *

Tycho collapsed into bed, absolutely exhausted from the day. After their simulator work was done, Cal had them all go eat together then all go to the gym together, per his new rule. It was hard to think without any privacy. Maybe that was the point of the rule.

Tycho rolled over to face the wall and take stock of what he knew. Or thought he knew. Jedah City destroyed. Imperial structural archives destroyed. Alderaan "destroyed." Or something. Organas involved. Jedi involved. Defectors involved. Tycho rolled over again. Adan seemed to be already asleep. Tycho didn't know one way or the other about the Jedi. He knew the same thing everyone else knew about them. They were traitors to the Empire. They had personally attacked Chancellor Palpatine just as the Republic was about to win the war against the Separatists. Palpatine survived the attack and won the war. He had the support of most of the Senate to change the Republic to the Empire. He sent Lord Vader to kill the Jedi. And everything was peaceful. Until rebel groups started popping up. Tycho figured Cal was probably right about that one being rebel propaganda.

The rest of it though… Tycho couldn't make it all fit. It didn't make any sense for any rebels to attack Jedah City. But the Empire would, if Saw Guerra was there. Rebels would certainly attack Scarif, if they could get in. Maybe that's where the defectors were involved. But there was no way they could destroy all the archives. And even in a counter attack, the Empire would be careful not to destroy its own records. And Alderaan… Try as he might, Tycho couldn't force himself to believe the rebels could or would attack Alderaan. They barely had a fleet, much less the resources or engineering skills to devastate an entire planet. And there was too much support there. It could make a tempting target for the Empire. But planet-wise devastation was gratuitous, even for the Empire. It was a waste of resources, of manpower, of economic capacity. None of it made any sense.

Tycho rolled over yet again, realizing he didn't actually know anything for certain. _Except I can't call home,_ he thought. So what did he _believe_? Tycho ran through all the rumors again in his head. He believed the Empire attacked Jedah City. He believed the rebels attacked Scarif, even if they couldn't destroy the archives. And…he did not believe the rebels attacked Alderaan. He simply didn't. Why lie about it though?

Tycho rolled onto his back. Because that's what that would mean, wouldn't it? If the Empire said the rebels destroyed Alderaan, and he didn't believe the rebels destroyed Alderaan, then logically, he believed the Empire lied. _I believe the Empire lied._ Tycho gasped, and sat up and coughed as he tried not to choke. He _liked_ the Empire. He'd been happy to join after he turned eighteen. His family had been so proud of him, had come to his academy graduation and commissioning ceremony. The various Imperial governors over the years had all been guests in their home. Tycho had received gifts from many of them when he was a child. His father had received personal congratulations from the Governor's office when he graduated. This was the life he had always wanted. To be a fighter pilot. To play a role in people's peace and security.

_I believe the Empire lied._

Tycho gasped again and tried to take a couple of deep breaths to get some more oxygen. They came out shallow. He rubbed his hands over his face. _Just because they lied doesn't mean they're responsible, does it?_ Tycho shook his head. That was ridiculous. Something happened on Alderaan. Something terrible. The only ones who even could be responsible was the Empire. _I believe the Empire lied._

Tycho shuddered as the truth of it sunk in. He imagined the capital city, where he grew up, its centuries-old architecture built skillfully into the mountains, lying in crumbled ruins, falling into the sea, burning. He imagined people, his family, his friends trapped in the rubble, dead, dying. Probably dead. It had been five days already. _I believe the Empire lied._

Tycho looked across the room at Adan. Adan had his back to him, was breathing evenly, certainly asleep. Tycho watched carefully as he raised his voice to just a whisper.

"I believe the Empire lied."

Adan didn't move.

Tycho shuddered and sunk back underneath the covers. Now what?


	2. Chapter 2: Action

For the last few days Tycho had tried to stay under Cal's radar. The squadron had a full day of down time after another sim day and Cal insisted they all spend it together. Tycho had never heard Salta complain so much. Their simulator packages had switched from normal training fights to fighter escort and counter ambush tactics. Tycho found it increasingly hard to concentrate. And Cal was starting to notice again.

"Is it safe to presume that we've got an escort mission coming up, with possibility of rebel ambush?" Adan asked at breakfast.

"If you didn't assume that, you'd be an idiot," Cal said.

"Babysitting duty," Salta said.

"If it keeps our supplies out of rebel hands, it's worth doing," Cal said. He glanced up at Tycho. "What's up with you, Celchu?"

"Nothing," Tycho. He hadn't told anyone what he thought about the official Imperial line on the attacks. He didn't know how much trouble he could get in, even if other people agreed with him.

"You're a shit liar," Adan said.

Adan, unfortunately, was correct.

"Come on, spit it out," Cal said. Tycho frowned. "If we're going to be flying against rebel ambushes, we need to know what's up with each other," Cal said. "Now, spit it out."

Tycho tried to choose his words carefully. "It...just, you know, didn't make any sense…"

Cal looked at him more intently. "_What_ didn't make any sense?"

"Just...the rebels, why would they attack Alderaan? There's too much support there. Even if they aren't military geniuses, they're at least smart enough not to do that." Cal frowned. "And," Tycho pressed on, "we've never heard of any of them having that kind of firepower. They do hit and run attacks. Guerrilla tactics. Cargo ambushes. They don't destroy planets...whatever that even means." Tycho paused. They were all looking at him now.

"So," Cal said, turning to face him. "What are you suggesting instead?"

"What?" Tycho said. "I'm...not suggesting anything."

"Are you sure?" Cal raised an eyebrow. "Maybe it's a good idea. Maybe something you'd like to float to the Wing Commander or the Wing Intelligence Officer, maybe?"

"I - no," Tycho said. "I'm not suggesting anything."

"Maybe it's like this," Adan said. "It's pretty much an open secret your senator and her family are rebels, right? And you said your father hated them, right? He must have had a reason. Maybe more people agreed with him so the rebels didn't actually have that much support."

"Yeah, what was the reason?" Salta asked.

"He thought the Organa family and the royal family were corrupt and trying to consolidate planetary power," Tycho said.

"Oh, you mean like typical politicians," Adan said.

"Queen Brehia's father, when he was still king, appointed the senator prior to Bail Organa, from the Antilles family," Tycho said. "Princess Brehia married Bail Organa. Senator Antilles stepped down a few years after Brehia became queen. So she appointed her husband as senator." Adan snorted. "Then after he stepped down," Tycho finished, "she appointed her teenage daughter as senator."

"Wow," Adan said.

"That sounds like a legitimate complaint to me," Salta said.

Tycho shrugged. "But they were popular."

"When was the last time you were home?" Adan said. "Maybe they weren't anymore."

"Yeah, maybe…" Tycho said. "There's still the firepower capacity issue… We would have heard about that."

"Just because you didn't know doesn't mean the Intelligence and Security Bureau didn't know," Cal said.

"If ISB knew all that, then how did they manage to pull off three attacks?" Tycho said.

"Look, do you have something you want to float by the Wing Intel Office, or not?" Cal said. "I'll arrange it for you," he offered.

Tycho thought he heard the barest hint of a threat in Cal's words. "No," he said.

"Glad to hear it," Cal said. "Now hurry up and get moving. More sims today."

The next morning at breakfast, Cal was the last one to arrive. "You know, being a flight leader doesn't give you a pass on timeliness," Salta said.

"I was meeting with the commander," Cal said. "That's an _actual_ good excuse." He sat down. "Here's the new organization, just got approved," he said. He pointed at Salta. "Pelino, you're now Trinity Twelve, and Celchu," he pointed at Tycho, "you're now Trinity Ten. Effective immediately."

"_What_?" Salta wrinkled up her face. "I have to be Berkesh's wingmate now? Ugh, what did I do to deserve this punishment?"

"Mostly your snarky and disrespectful attitude," Cal said.

"Relax," Adan said with a smirk. "If I make you do push ups, they'll be girl push ups."

"Fuck you," Salta said. "We're both lieutenants, you can't make me do push ups. _And_ I did more pushups than you on our last physical test anyway." She smirked back. "So bring it."

Cal shook his head and looked at Tycho. "You got a problem?"

"No Sir."

"Fabulous." He had already finished eating. "Hurry up. We're in the squad room today."

In the squad room, Tycho actively reminded himself to sound off as Trinity Ten when the commander did roll call. Other squadrons were using the simulator bays, so they would be spending the next two days studying sensor packages of previous training runs and other squadrons' live missions against ambushes. Sitting in the back, with the lights dimmed while Two Flight leader walked them through the analyses, gave Tycho more time to think. Salta certainly _was_ snarky and disrespectful. It was usually part of her charm, which was why she got away with it. That, and she was a good pilot. Had it actually been a problem, Cal would have kept her where she was in case she needed more discipline. Which meant the reason had to be him.

Tycho wondered if Cal had reported what he'd said to the commander, or worse, to the Wing Intelligence Office. That didn't feel right either though. If he had been reported, he'd be in the brig right now. Right? Tycho had always had an appreciation for the order and discipline of the Imperial Navy. But it also meant there was little room for dissenting opinions. Maybe Cal had just been trying to scare him.

Still, it clearly wasn't safe to bring it up again. Which left him in the same position he'd been in for the past few days. What should he do about this? It was getting increasingly difficult to target rebel ships in the simulator. He was also starting to wonder what else the Empire might have lied about. He had wondered about the alleged defectors involved in the attacks. Who were they? Why did they do it? How did they do it? And importantly, how did they not get caught on the way out? He was on a Star Destroyer in the middle of space. His fighter didn't have hyperdrive. His code cylinder didn't give him access to any ships that did. And in either case, he had no idea where to go even if he could get off the Destroyer without getting shot down.

Cal nudged him. "Pay attention," he said.

"Yes Sir." Tycho forced himself back to the briefing, but it didn't take long for his mind to wander again. He could put in for leave. But to where? Obviously not "home." Cal would never approve it anyway. And depending on what he reported, the commander probably wouldn't approve it either. Tycho forced himself back to the briefing again. He wasn't going to come up with a solution like this, not with Cal watching him the way he was.

* * *

The next two days had the squadron back in the simulators. Tycho was still hitting more than he missed, but it was barely above fifty percent. Everyone was doing more poorly than usual against the ambushes though, so no one seemed to take specific notice of him. Salta, as usual, complained.

"Are we actually going to _do_ anything with these counter-ambush skills, or are they just going to let us suffer in the sims?" she asked at breakfast.

"What skills?" Cal asked. "You died three times in a row yesterday."

"I'd do better against the real thing," she countered.

"Yeah? Just think how much better than that you'll be if you can get your shit together when it's fake," Cal said. "Now stop whining and hurry up. Squad room today."

Listening to the chatter in the squad room, it seemed a lot of people shared Salta's complaint. What good was all the training if they weren't being given a mission?

"Squadron, attention!"

Everyone snapped up as the commander entered the room. "Good morning, Trinity Squadron," he said. "At ease. Have a seat." Everyone settled back down. "I know," he said, "that you all probably don't think I know what a bunch of whiners and complainers you are. Griping about training with no mission." Several people snickered. Adan poked Salta in the shoulder. "You're in luck. We've just gotten orders for our next mission. And it was _not_ because of your whining. It was already scheduled. XO, lights!"

The lights dimmed and Commander Kint went through the mission briefing on the holoprojector. The Destroyer was on its way to the Feleen system, where the Empire had a hard metals orbital refinery above Feleen 2. The ore was transferred from the surface to the refinery, where it took several days to get processed. Once it was finished, the refined metals were loaded onto cargo ships and delivered to various shipyards across the Empire. There had been two instances in the past week where cargo ships had been ambushed after being loaded, boarded, and then stolen. Tycho thought it sounded more like pirates than rebels, though for mission purposes the distinction didn't matter much. All they had to do was make sure the loaded cargo ships made it to the system departure point from the refinery without being ambushed.

"For this mission," Commander Kint said, "the wing will be stationed planet-side. There is a constant loading schedule for the ore, so we'll be on a rotation with the other two squadrons. When we're on call, we're up. When they're on call, we've got training and downtime. There's a lot built up around the mining industry here, and it looks like we'll be able to take advantage of the local entertainment. We're scheduled for an area briefing by the local garrison after we land. What are your questions?" No one had any. "Very well. We are scheduled to arrive in system in one hour. Pack your bags and be in the hangar in forty-five minutes. Dismissed!"

* * *

The surface of Feleen 2 had a slightly stronger gravity pull than Coruscant standard, making Tycho's steps feel heavier than normal. The wing had parked in a hangar bay that looked like it had been a recent, and quick, construction just for them. The thirty-six pilots, and select members of their maintenance crews who had been tasked to accompany them, waited in line to process into the base, have their code cylinders keyed to appropriate entrances, and have their barracks rooms assigned. In processing anywhere was always the most boring part of any military operation.

Tycho could hear Salta mumbling behind him in line. "Shut up, Pelino, or I'm going to send you to back of Retribution Squadron," Cal said.

"You don't even know what I was saying," Salta said.

"I don't need to," Cal said. "Now keep quiet."

Once they were through the line, Tycho followed Cal and Adan to the barracks area they were assigned. Salta turned the other direction to the women's barracks.

"No tardiness, Pelino," Cal called after her. "We're due back in the briefing area in thirty minutes."

"I'm closer to the briefing area than you are," Salta called back.

They dropped their bags in their rooms and inspected their space. Tycho shared a room with Adan. There was a very small common space and refresher. Cal and his usual roommate, another captain from One Flight, had the adjoining room. Captain Darnesh wrinkled his nose at the idea of four pilots sharing a refresher. "Your boys better not be gross, Droman," he said.

"Ah, shut your face, and put your stuff away," Cal said. "And you two," he said pointing at Tycho and Adan, "hurry up. We're going to be back in the briefing room before Pelino so I don't have to listen to her complain."

The briefing area was already starting to fill up with the rest of the wing when they got there. Salta slid into a seat right at the twenty-eight minute mark. "And here I thought you were closer," Cal said.

"Destiny Squadron always thinks they're better than everyone else," Salta said. "I had to straighten some people out."

"I'm going to straighten _you_ out if you start getting into fights again," Cal said.

"Wing, attention!"

The room snapped to attention as the Wing Commander and several other senior officers entered the room.

"At ease, and have a seat Redemption Wing," the commander said.

The garrison commander stepped up and introduced himself as Colonel Harlon. He reiterated the importance of their mission to the Empire. The base operations officer, Major Armont, gave them a few more details on the mission and the ambush tactics they'd seen. He pulled up a holomap of the area around the base. Different areas were coded red and blue. "This map," he said, "was downloaded to all of your code cylinders when you in processed. All of the areas marked in red are spaces and establishments you may patronize. Everything in blue is off limits to all Imperial personnel. We operate on galactic standard time here for mission purposes, but the local day night cycle is only twenty-two standard hours. Curfew is in effect for all base personnel from local 2100 to local 0600. Your individual mission briefings for all rotations will include both local and galactic standard time. Be mindful of the distinctions if you do plan to go out." He turned to a woman waiting off to the side. "Assistant Chief Dern."

She stepped to the front of the briefing space. "Good morning Redemption Wing," she said. "I am Assistant Chief Dern, the Intelligence and Security Bureau representative for Feleen 2. I want to emphasize for you the importance of your mission here. Your rotations may not be the most exciting thing you have ever done for the Empire, but I can promise you that your contributions to this mission will be substantial." She gestured to the map. "To that end, I want to ensure that you understand that my office takes very seriously any infractions of curfew and any discoveries of personnel in off-limits spaces. My personnel are not trained to be nice." She nodded back to the base commander. "Colonel Harlon."

Colonel Harlon closed out the briefing and turned them over to the wing commander. "Rotations begin in ten local hours and will proceed in Squadron order: Destiny, Trinity, Retribution. Squadron XOs have the precise schedule. Squadron commanders, take charge!"

The room came to attention as the commander walked out. "Trinity Squadron!" Commander Kint called the squadron together. "There's one simulator bay in this place and Retribution has already claimed it for the first rotation. Get some rest, familiarize yourself with the base, and no one goes out until after our first rotation up, and we get acclimated to the time. You're dismissed."

* * *

The base itself was hardly exciting. They'd been given access to their rooms, the gym, the dining hall, training spaces, and the hangar. Everything else was off limits. "Looks like we'll be in the gym a lot," Adan said at dinner.

"At least the food is decent," Salta said.

"How long is this mission?" Tycho asked.

"We haven't even gone up yet and you three are bored already," Cal said. "Weren't you paying attention to how important this mission is?"

"They always say that," Salta said. "Where are the rebels we're supposed to snuff out?"

"_ISB_ doesn't always come say that," Cal said. "Hurry up, we need to be in the hangar bay in an hour for our first rotation up."

* * *

The first rotation for Trinity Squadron was eight standard hours of mostly nothing, just as Destiny Squadron's first rotation had been. Three shipments of refined metal had been picked up in that time. An empty cargo ship would come in to the system, dock at the refinery, spend about an hour getting loaded, then head to the system departure point for clearance to leave. It was the ten minutes between undocking and receiving clearance where the cargo ship was most vulnerable. Tycho thought that the fact that the rebels had managed to steal anything, much less twice, was an impressive feat. The cargo pickups were fairly regular, but not with such precision that someone could make an accurate guess about departure times with no other information. The rebels were getting extra information from somewhere.

_Another defector?_ Tycho wondered.

They were relieved by Retribution Squadron and had another fifteen standard hours before they had to be back in the hangar bay for their second rotation. Salta mumbled all the way to the dining hall. "ISB lady did not exaggerate," she said. "That was literally the least exciting thing I've done in four years of Imperial service. They really need a whole wing of TIEs for this?"

"They need someone up all the time," Adan said. "I sure don't want to run twenty-four ops."

"I guess not," Salta said.

"If we do what we're supposed to do," Cal said, "we're a deterrent and they won't show up at all."

"Great, you just demotivated me even more."

"Use your head, Pelino," Cal said. "They need precision timing to steal anything from this place, the way they've been doing. For that, they need information. Local information." Tycho nodded. The same thing he'd figured out earlier. Cal continued. "Once they know we're here, they can either call off the whole operation - we win - or they change tactics. And what do either of those things need?"

Salta frowned. "More comms?" Adan said.

"Right," Cal said. "So?"

"Comms can be tracked," Tycho said.

"Precisely," Cal said, pointing at Tycho. "So, yeah, we might get some rebel fighters while we're here, but this is really an ISB op to flush out whatever base or outpost they have here."

"Probably in one of those off limits blue areas on the map," Adan said.

"Exactly," Cal said. He looked at Salta. "Are you more motivated now?"

"Am I at least still going to be able to kill something?" she asked.

Cal shook his head. "You should have been a stormtrooper."

* * *

Tycho yawned as he climbed into his TIE fighter for the second rotation. The squadron had been called in five hours early to run some simulator packages before they went up. Retribution Squadron had thwarted an ambush three hours after they had relieved Trinity Squadron. A squadron of Y-Wings and a shuttle with a boarding party jumped into the system within five minutes of a cargo ship leaving the dock. They were completely unprepared for Retribution Squadron's counterattack. The Y-Wings broke off immediately. The shuttle and eight fighters got away; four other Y-Wings weren't so lucky. Base operations drew up the sim package from Retribution's sensor data as soon as they landed. Destiny's rotation had been quiet. It was going to be a long day.

Forty minutes into the second cargo loading near the end of the rotation, Salta couldn't keep her frustration quiet anymore. "Come on, you rebel scum bags, show your lousy faces."

"Shut up Pelino," Cal said. "They're not going to show up here so soon after getting their asses handed to them."

"And if they did, it won't be for another twenty-five minutes," Adan added.

Twenty minutes later the cargo ship started undocking, right on schedule. "Okay, Trinity Squadron, form up around the cargo ship and keep your eyes peeled," Commander Kint said.

Tycho rolled his fighter around to Cal's port aft side as the cargo ship headed for the departure point. Cal was probably right, there was no way the rebels would try -

Tycho's threat sensors started blaring.

"Watch out, incoming!" Two Flight leader yelled. "Two X-Wings, starboard!"

The two X-Wings swooped in to the formation, taking attempts at disabling shots at the cargo ship. "One Flight, Two Flight, stay with the cargo ship, Three Flight, engage!" Commander Kint ordered.

"Copy that, Trinity Lead," Cal said. "Eleven, Twelve, take the wing, Ten with me on the lead."

Tycho acknowledged and followed Cal around to engage the first fighter. The two X-Wings broke their own formation as they got chased in opposite directions. Tycho stuck to Cal's port aft while keeping an eye on the second fighter. The lead fighter maneuvered irregularly, staying out of Cal's sights. Tycho had to admit, he had a lot of respect for the X-Wing as an airframe. Beyond having the shields and hyperdrive his TIE didn't have, the X-Wing was reputed to have a good balance of speed, maneuverability, and reasonable maintenance requirements. _I could do that_, Tycho thought. _I could fly an X-Wing. _

Cal missed his shot a third time. "Come on, you rebel shitbag, get in my targeting sights," he muttered.

The fighter pulled up hard to the left, putting him just at the edge of Tycho's targeting sights. Tycho took a shot, and just barely missed. The fighter continued up, then turned a hard one hundred and eighty degrees. He dove down, straight between Adan and Salta, forcing them to break formation. _That's fancy flying,_ Tycho thought. The second fighter banked to the right, bringing him almost head to head with Salta. He took a shot that skimmed the top of her cockpit. Tycho heard Salta yelp and grunt.

"Trinity Twelve, report!"

Salta didn't answer, but brought her fighter around to close in on the lead X-Wing. Cal had already damaged its shields. Salta unloaded several shots at the weakened shields and clipped the fighter's navigation droid.

"Retribution Squadron, inbound!" someone called out.

Tycho saw them coming in. They had been due up for relief in a few minutes anyway. The X-Wings must have seen them too, because they immediately broke off the attack, cleared the area, and jumped to hyperspace. The cargo ship had already made its jump out.

"Trinity Twelve, report," Commander Kint said.

Still no answer.

"Damn it, Pelino, report!" Cal said.

"I'm fine," Salta snapped back. Tycho thought her voice sounded a bit heavy.

"Trinity Squadron, check in," Commander Kint said. Everyone checked in. It seemed Salta was the only one with damage.

"Trinity Lead, this is Retribution Lead. We're ready to relieve you."

"Copy that Retribution, many thanks. Trinity Squadron, back to base. Twelve, you are headed to the infirmary as soon as you land."

"Yes Sir," she said.

Back in the hangar, Cal was first out of his cockpit, waiting for Salta to climb down. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I just got knocked around a bit, I'm fine, relax," she said. She smirked. "At least I actually hit something," she said.

"See, look at all that snark," Adan said. "That's how you can tell she actually is fine."

"You didn't even get a shot off," Salta said to him. "At least Celchu got a shot off."

"You know," Cal said, "I try to show the least little bit of concern for someone -"

"Hey," Commander Kint said. "Pelino, infirmary, now. The rest of you, briefing room."

Salta gave them a wave as she walked off. "Later!"

In the briefing area, the wing and base operations officers walked through the sensor data. Tycho could see Assistant Chief Dern standing off to the side. The general consensus, after an hour and a half of discussion, was that the X-Wings were a probe to follow up on the earlier loss of the Y-Wings. If they hadn't known before, now they knew at least two squadrons of TIEs were stationed at Feleen 2. Chief Dern addressed the group. "Congratulations Trinity Squadron, and Three Flight in particular. Your actions protected another precious bit of cargo. Your pilot who hit the navigation droid after possibly being injured, is she here?"

"I sent her to the infirmary," Commander Kint said. "But she's probably fine,"

"Glad to hear it," Chief Dern said. "That's exactly the kind of vigor and motivation we need in Imperial service. Her attitude should be emulated."

Adan leaned over to Tycho. "She hasn't heard Salta open her mouth yet," he whispered. Tycho glanced at him and suppressed a grin.

The wing commander dismissed them from the briefing. Commander Kint released them for down time until their next rotation and gave them permission to go off base before curfew. Cal, Adan, and Tycho headed back to their room. Salta was leaning by the door waiting for them.

"They let you out already?" Adan said.

"Small, minor, not even really a concussion," Salta said. "It's fine. Are we going out? I heard we had permission to go out?"

"Heck yeah, we're going out," Adan said. "I got the refresher first." He opened the door.

"You want to go _out_?" Cal said.

"It's another five hours until curfew," Tycho said.

"And everyone else has been out but us," Salta said.

Cal sighed. "Fine. We'll go out."

An hour later, the four of them were sitting at a bar a ten-minute walk from the base gates. Several bar patrons had come up to them to congratulate them on foiling an ambush. "Thanks, it was great!" Salta said. She had heard what Chief Dern said about her.

"Shush," Cal said. "We shouldn't talk about that in public. You don't know who's in here."

"Oh yeah," Salta said.

Tycho looked around the bar. This was one of the red, authorized areas from the map. That didn't mean anyone else here _couldn't _be a rebel. Tycho wondered what it would take for him to simply walk out. He wasn't stuck on a Star Destroyer. He wasn't limited to a hyperdrive-less TIE fighter. There were definitely rebels around here somewhere. He could say he was going to the refresher and just not come back. He'd be noticed missing pretty quickly. The biggest blue area was northwest, on the other side of the town from the base. Someone would be looking for him well before he got there. And it was still daylight.

Salta tapped the table in front of him. "Hey. You. You wanna join us?"

"Huh?" Tycho looked back at her.

"You and Cal. What the hell," she said. "You act like we all died out there."

"I missed," Cal said.

"We all missed, stop your crying," Salta said.

"I missed the one that got between you three times. That set up the second one to take a shot at you," he said. Tycho saw Cal was already on his second drink.

Salta rolled her eyes and waved him off. "Oh please."

"Food's here," Adan said. Everyone quieted down while they ate, and Cal got another drink. Adan and Salta started people watching after their dishes had been cleared.

"They had some pretty good flying," Salta said after a while.

"I said, not in here," Cal said. He sounded a bit slurred.

Salta sighed and leaned back with her drink.

"Maybe one of them was their Jedi," Adan whispered to Tycho.

"I doubt they'd waste him on that," Tycho whispered back. Tycho looked outside. It was dark out now. "What time is it?" he asked.

Salta looked at her chronometer. "It's, um, hang on. It's...2000. Local. Curfew is not for another hour."

"We should probably head back though," Adan said. He pointed at Cal, who was nearly passed out.

"Oh," Salta said. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Come on, help me," Adan said to Tycho. The two of them slid Cal off the seat while Salta paid their bill.

"You all owe me money," she said.

_So much for going to the refresher and not coming back_, Tycho thought.

It took them almost twenty minutes to get back to the gate. They scanned their code cylinders with the guards and he waved them in. Salta split off them as she turned to the women's barracks. "I think you boys can handle things from here?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Adan said.

At the room, Adan grumbled as his code cylinder wouldn't open Cal's door. "Grab his and open it, would you?" he said to Tycho. Tycho dug round in Cal's pocket, found the code cylinder, and opened the door. As Adan pulled him through, Tycho put the code cylinder in his pocket. Adan put Cal on his bed with a blanket. He stretched and yawned. "I'm wiped," he said. "I'm going to bed."

"We did get called in five hours early," Tycho reminded him, as Adan keyed them into their own room.

"Oh yeah," Adan said as he placed his code cylinder on a shelf. "I'd forgotten about that." He sat on the bed. "You can use the refresher first. I'm going to lie down for a minute."

"Okay." Tycho stepped back into the common space. Everything was quiet. Retribution Squadron would be up for at least another hour. Destiny Squadron was probably just getting up to get ready for their next rotation. He looked at his chronometer. Thirty minutes. The gates were open for another thirty minutes. He ran a hand through his hair. This was it. This was the best chance he'd have. He glanced back at the door. Adan was probably waiting for him to come back in. He keyed into the room. Adan was already asleep. Tycho could feel his heartbeat getting faster. He grabbed Adan's code cylinder from the shelf and stepped into the hallway.

Tycho took a deep breath and headed back to the gates. He passed by a couple of local base personnel, who seemed to take little notice of him. He stopped as he approached the gate, where two stormtroopers stood guard. They were probably the same ones they'd passed on the way in. _They'll definitely report me when I don't come back in,_ Tycho thought. Tycho stood up straight and started walking like he had every right to be where he was. He got about five steps from the gate.

"Hey!"

Tycho stopped and slowly turned back around.

"It's almost curfew," one of the guards said.

"I know what time it is," Tycho said. "It's not curfew."

"It is in twenty-two minutes." The trooper took a step forward.

"That's in twenty-two minutes. _Sergeant_." Tycho had never pulled rank on anyone like that before.

The stormtrooper stood his ground for just a moment, then took one step back. "Very well. _Sir_," he said.

Tycho turned and kept walking. He walked east, back toward the main part of town where they'd been earlier. He cut north for a couple of blocks and then turned west, toward the largest blue area on the map.

Tycho dug his hands into his pockets and shivered against the chill breeze. He could feel the three code cylinders in his pocket. He wondered what would happen to Adan and Cal when they discovered he was missing. When they realized their code cylinders were missing. Tycho slowed down. Certainly they would get in trouble, if for nothing else, not keeping their personal information secure. It wasn't their fault. They hadn't lied to him. They had been lied to as much as he had. And all the times Cal could have reported him, he didn't. Tycho stopped. He took the code cylinders out of his pocket and looked at them. Now he regretted taking them. He looked at his chronometer. Ten minutes to curfew. If he sprinted, he could make it back, return them. He'd never get back out. It could take days before he got another chance. And if the rebels abandoned their mission here, the wing would be sent back the destroyer, and Tycho would be right back where he was before. He put the code cylinders back in his pocket and started walking again.

There were fewer street lights in the northwest portion of the city. Tycho slowed down. He glanced to his left. He thought he saw something moving. He narrowed his eyes, but couldn't make anything out. He looked ahead, wondering if he should turn anywhere. He had been so focused on getting _out_ that he didn't really have a plan for when he got here.

Tycho snapped his head to the right. More movement? He slowed down more as he tried to look into the dark. He started hearing footsteps behind him. His heart rate picked up. The movement to the right became clearer. He slowly looked to the left. There was definitely someone there now. One to his left, one to his right, and at least two behind him. He stopped. So did they.

A middle aged male human came out from behind a building and pointed a blaster at him. "You look a bit lost, son. Something we can help you with?"

The other four closed in on him. They all had blasters too. Two of them probably weren't human. "I'm looking for someone," Tycho said.

"Yeah, who's that?"

"Rebels," Tycho said.

The group laughed. The man shrugged. "There are no rebels out here," he said. "You must be mistaken."

"ISB thinks there are," Tycho said.

The man nodded. "Is that right?" he said. He nodded to the others. "Cuff him, bag him."

They grabbed him from behind, securing his arms together, and threw a canvas bag over his head. At least two of them kept a hold of him. Tycho tried to keep his breathing steady inside the bag. He could hear the man take a step closer to him.

"So, you're out here, all by yourself, no blaster even, looking for rebels because ISB thinks they're out here. Are _you_ ISB?"

"No -"

"What are you then?"

Tycho tried to take a deep breath. What was he? "Defector," he said.

The man laughed. "Defector?! Now, how do you know _we're_ not ISB and we're not about to arrest you, court martial you, parade you around as an example, and then execute you?"

Tycho felt like he was suffocating inside the bag. _You idiot, of course they have agents all over this area. What were you thinking?_ He took one hot, shaky breath. "I don't," he said.

"Hmm." The man paused. "Empty his pockets," he said.

Three of them dug as deeply and roughly into his pockets as they could, including a couple of places that were not pockets. His fiancée would not have approved.

"Sir," one of them said. "Three Imperial code cylinders."

There was a pause. "That's it?"

"Yes Sir."

"It was all I could grab on the way out," Tycho said. "One is mine, the other two belong to my flight mates."

"Your flight mates?"

"I'm a pilot."

"What kind of pilot?"

"TIE fighter."

"Hmmm." There was another pause. He took another step closer. "What's your name, defector pilot?"

"Tycho Celchu."

"Where are you from?"

_Nowhere._ "Alderaan," he said. Tycho heard a gasp behind him and a hush fell over the group. He could hear the man take one more step forward, could feel they were almost nose to nose. Tycho didn't bother trying to control his breathing. What did they know that he didn't? He waited.

"Put him in the truck," the man said.

Two of them took him by the arms and led him up onto a bench in the back of a hover truck. Tycho thought he could be imagining things, but they seemed slightly less rough with him that time.


	3. Chapter 3: Knowledge

The truck ride seemed longer than it likely actually was. Tycho shivered in the damp air of the truck. His arms were still bound behind him and the canvas bag was still over his head. He wondered if he had been reported yet. Surely the gate troopers had reported him. There were holocameras. They'd know it was him immediately. He thought again about Adan and Cal. He wondered if ISB would question them. He wondered how much trouble Cal would get into for not reporting him earlier. _I'm sorry,_ he thought.

The truck stopped and two people pulled him out. As he walked, he could feel the ground change from gravel to cement. They walked down what was probably a long hallway, turned, and walked down a few steps. He heard a door slide open. Inside the new room, Tycho was pushed down into a chair. One of his arms was unbound; the restraint was clipped to the chair. Someone took the bag off his head.

Tycho looked around the room. It was mostly dark. There was one small table in front of him and another, empty chair on the other side. The woman who brought him in was still standing next to him. She had mismatched armor and a blaster. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a rations packet. "Here," she said. She placed it on the table in front of him.

Half the components were already eaten. "Thank you," Tycho said. He wasn't that hungry, but he knew he would be later. If there was a later.

The door slid open again and a human male, a Rodian male, and a Twi'lek female entered the room. The human male sat at the table across from him while the other two stood guard at the door. He placed a datapad on the table and the three code cylinders next to him. "Let's see," he said, looking at the datapad. "Tycho Celchu, Imperial Navy Flight Officer, homeworld Alderaan, galactic standard birthday 2 BFE, 5, 25. Oh, just a couple of weeks ago. Happy birthday."

Tycho didn't say anything. He wasn't sure he wanted to celebrate his birthday ever again.

The man continued. "At least, that's what your code cylinder says," he said. He looked at Tycho.

"That's true," Tycho said.

The man leaned forward. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm from Alderaan," Tycho said, as if the implications were obvious.

The man shrugged. "So what?"

Tycho frowned. Did they not know? "I - we - my unit - we heard rumors, and some announcements, about...stuff."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What kind of rumors?"

Tycho closed his eyes, trying to remember them all. "We heard about a rebel attack on Scarif. An attack on Jedah. An attack on Alderaan. There were defectors. A Jedi. The archives were destroyed. Alderaan was...destroyed. Some secret weapon. Moff Tarkin was killed. We were told the rebels did all of it."

"And what did you think of all that?" the man asked.

"I...didn't believe that," Tycho said.

"Didn't believe what?"

"That...that the rebels destroyed Alderaan," Tycho said. "I...guess I don't know about the rest."

"Hmm." The man glanced at his datapad again. "You're a TIE pilot?"

"That's right."

"Part of the wing that arrived here a couple of days ago?"

"Yes."

"What was your mission?"

Tycho paused. This wasn't really what he wanted to talk about. "We were tasked with cargo escort and counter ambush," he said.

"Interesting mission?"

"Not really."

"No?"

"I wasn't up when the last ambush hit. I saw the X-Wing probe though."

"And what did you make of that?"

Tycho shrugged. "It made sense."

"Why is that?"

"Because," Tycho said, "as much as we were there to protect cargo, the assumption, well, my flight leader's assumption, was that we were there to help ISB flush out the rebels they thought were on Feleen 2." Tycho pointed to the code cylinders. "You already looked at those. The maps, the red and blue ones. ISB gave us those. The red areas were authorized for us to be in. Blue areas were off limits. They didn't tell us why. But, rebel activity seemed like the obvious answer. That's why I came up this way to look for you."

The man rested his chin on his hands as he looked at Tycho. "Anyone see you walk off your base?"

"Stormtrooper gate guards."

"They likely to report you?"

"Yes."

The man paused, then gave a nod to the Twi'lek woman. "And tell control to contact Targeter," he said.

"Yes Sir," she said, and left the room. The man started typing into his datapad.

"Can I ask a question?" Tycho said.

"This is my interview, not yours," he aid.

"What does 'destroyed' mean?"

"What?" He didn't look up.

"What does 'destroyed' mean? Everyone keeps saying Alderaan was destroyed, but I don't know what that means." The man looked up. Tycho continued. "I mean, is it even true? I couldn't call home. What kind of attack was it? Did anyone even check for survivors?" Tycho took a deep breath and looked down at the table. "I just want to know what happened to my family."

The man set his datapad down and pushed it to the side. "How long have you been in Imperial service?"

"Three years, including academy time," Tycho answered.

"You grow up an Imperial supporter?"

"Yes."

"Always do what you're told?"

"Until today, yes."

The man turned to look at the Rodian by the door. The Rodian shrugged. He looked at the woman standing behind Tycho. She shrugged. He sighed. He reached across the table and pulled a protein ball out of the rations packet and unwrapped it. He set it in the center of the table. "Imagine this is Alderaan," he said. "You might be imagining a fleet of Star Destroyers, or some other kind of weapon, surrounding the planet," he drew his finger around the protein ball, "and opening fire. You might be imagining cities crumbling, seas boiling, forests burning. Is that what you're imagining?"

Tycho hung his head. He had been trying to avoid those images. "I guess. I don't know."

"Well," he said, "that's not what happened."

Tycho looked up. "It's not?"

"No."

"What happened?" Tycho leaned forward.

The man slammed his fist into the protein ball, scattering shattered pieces across the table. He lifted his hand so Tycho could see it all. "That," he said, "is what the Empire did to Alderaan."

Tycho felt his jaw slowly drop open. He reached across the table with his free hand to touch one of the crumbs. "I...I don't understand," he said, shaking his head.

"This is all that's left," he said. "Where there was once a planet, there is now just an asteroid field. There are no cities to rebuild, no forests to replant. And no survivors to look for."

Tycho felt his chest tighten as he struggled to breath. His free hand clapped back to his mouth, but not before one sob got out. How was that possible?

The Twi'lek woman re-entered the room. "Boss, control wants to see you," she said.

The man stood up. He pointed to the two women. "You and you, put him in a holding cell, then meet me in the briefing room." He pointed to the Rodian. "You clean this up and then meet us." He walked out.

The human woman unclipped him from the chair. He let her pull him up. "Come on, let's go." Tycho let them guide him as they walked. He wasn't watching where they were going or what turns they took. The Twi'lek opened another sliding door to a small room with a bench along the wall. They gave him a small push inside and unclipped the other side of the binder from him. "Here." She handed him the rest of the rations packet. They left the room, closing and locking the door behind them. Tycho was alone.

Tycho fell onto the bench, suddenly feeling the exhaustion from the day wash over him. He clutched the rations packet close to him as he trembled. That couldn't be true either. Could it? No one had that kind of firepower. More likely to be the Empire than the rebels. But how could that go unnoticed? He vaguely remembered a couple of his academy classmates getting pulled to work on some special project. Someone said it was a mobile space station. Was that it?

Tycho peeked into the rations packet, wondering if he should force himself to eat something. He shivered, wishing he had thought to grab a jacket when he left. He'd left all of his personal belongings on the Destroyer when he packed. He hadn't thought to grab anything other than the code cylinder when he left the barracks room. He literally had nothing but what he was wearing. He unwrapped a biscuit from the rations packet and nibbled it. It was hard, as if the entire packet was out of date.

He pulled his feet up onto the bench and thought back to the call he'd made. His older sister had been giving him a good-natured hard time about not taking leave for his birthday. It was his first birthday since graduating from the academy, so he hadn't wanted to. He promised her next year he would. His father had been in the middle of praising him for representing the family and Alderaan so well when the connection went out. Was that it? Was it that quick? _Did I watch them die?_

Tycho absently nibbled more on the biscuit. _At least their last moments were happy,_ he thought. But it wasn't very comforting. Happy...but praising a government they'd supported for nineteen years, that was about to murder them and lie about it. But why? What could possibly be the reason? Billions of civilians. Centuries of art and civilization and culture. Peace, prosperity. Everything the Empire said it wanted for the galaxy. He thought of the forests and hiking trails and water holes he used to play in as a child. He thought of his favorite art museum, the cinema that showed all the latest holodramas, and the coffee houses and bakeries. He thought of his schoolmates who stayed behind to work in government or industry or culture. All of it was gone…

* * *

Tycho looked up at the sound of some thuds. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. There were more thuds, this time closer. He got up from the bench and took a few cautious steps toward the door.

The door flew open. The Twi'lek woman from earlier grabbed his arm and pulled him out. Four others stood in the hallway, all with blasters drawn.

"Control, Team Three, phase line alpha," someone said.

"What's going o-" Tycho started.

"Looks like your friends decided they missed you," someone said.

"Team Three, Control, acknowledged. Evacuation code delta."

"Copy, Team Three out." Someone pushed Tycho along. "Come on, let's go."

Tycho ran with the group. He could hear distinct blaster fire in the distance behind them. An Imperial unit was attacking the base, looking for him. Would the rebels give him back? They had the code cylinders, they knew his mission. What other value could he have? He'd certainly be tried and executed. "Don't give me back -"

"Shut up and keep moving."

They made several turns and went out one more door. They were outside now. It was still dark. Tycho wondered what time it was. They turned left and moved along the wall of the building. At the corner, they stopped. The man leading the group whispered into his communicator. "Control, Team Three, phase line bravo."

"Copy. Hold."

Tycho was pressed into the wall, with two people in front of him, two behind, and one to the side. He couldn't see around the corner. After a moment, he could hear several sets of footsteps and the unmistakable clatter of stormtrooper armor. It sounded like at least a full squad. They'd never make it across the alley, if that's where they were headed.

Tycho took two more breaths and suddenly the alley exploded in yelling and blaster fire.

"Go now!"

Tycho managed a glance back as someone pushed him forward. The squad had been ambushed by six rebels hiding in the trash piles of the alley. Tycho kept running. They ran along the wall of another building, then cut to the right toward a tree line. Just inside the woods, a small freighter sat with the ramp down and the engine running. Blaster fire erupted from the left as another stormtrooper squad closed in. Three of his escorts turned and fired back. Two blasters popped down from the underside of the freighter, covering them. Tycho got pushed and pulled up the ramp and shoved into a corner.

"Team Three on board, all accounted for!"

"Launch!"

The freighter lurched as it took off.

"Whisper 1, outbound."

"Get me a status on Whisper 2 and Whisper 3."

"Whisper 2, Whisper 3, outbound, all personnel accounted for."

Tycho looked out the window and could see two other ships taking off from inside the woodline in the distance.

"Copy that. Blow it."

Within seconds, the compound they'd been in, the surrounding alleys, and the three landing spaces all exploded. _That must be evacuation code delta,_ Tycho thought. He stumbled a bit as the freighter exited the atmosphere.

"Get ready for the jump to hyperspace."

"TIE fighters inbound! Get on the guns!"

The ship lurched again as it banked to avoid the incoming attack. Tycho looked out the window to see four TIE fighters split off to surround the freighter. _That must be Destiny Squadron,_ Tycho thought. A glimpse of the markings as one of the TIEs flew by confirmed it. _I wonder if anyone told them I was up here._ He could hear the freighter's guns blasting.

"Shields damaged!"

"Get us into hyperspace!"

"I got one!"

"Jumping now!"

The stars streamed into familiar lines as the ship jumped to hyperspace. The freighter was quiet for a moment. Tycho wondered who in Destiny Squadron had been hit. He'd probably never know.

The rest of the rebels crowded into the main area where Tycho was. He could see them all in the light now. He counted eleven, including his escort and his interviewer. Another older human male came in from the cockpit area. "How many did we lose?" he asked.

"Three Sir."

"Plus the whole base."

"Hm." He looked at Tycho and folded his arms. He looked back at the interviewer and one other person Tycho thought might be the person he spoke to in the street. "This your boy?"

"Yes Sir."

"Hm." He waved a hand dismissively. "Put him in the hold then," he said.

Someone next to him grabbed his arm and pulled him. "Come on." Tycho was taken down a hall to a large storage closet near the engines, and given a small push inside. The door closed and locked without another word.

Tycho sat on the bench, feeling shaky. He looked at his chronometer. He'd been up for almost twenty hours. And he'd barely slept the night before. No wonder he was so exhausted. Climbing into a cockpit for simulator training five hours early felt like years ago. He rubbed his hands over his face. Not wanting to think anymore, he lay down on the bench and let the soft rumble of the engines lull him to sleep.

* * *

Tycho jolted awake. He glanced around, about to panic, trying to remember where he was. The storage closet, rebel ships, protein ball… he stopped. Maybe that part was a dream…

There was yelling on the other side of the door. He crept closer to hear.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"Leave him on the street and let ISB pick him up, that's what."

"But -"

"Three people gone, base lost, mission scrapped, and for what?! Three lousy junior officer code cylinders?!"

"He's from Alderaan -"

"I don't give a fuck where he _says_ he's from! What good is some naive little twit who needed his whole planet blown away to clue in to what the Empire is?"

"I thought Targeter -"

"Do you have any idea how busy she is? Lucky for you, she's here and not completely swamped at the moment." A pause. "He's scheduled for interview room four. Right now. Get him in there and stay out of my face for the rest of the day."

Tycho sat back down on the bench. Is that what they thought of him? Their mission was already compromised, that wasn't his fault. But...three rebels, at least a squad of stormtroopers, at least one from Destiny Squadron. Whatever trouble Cal and Adan got into. That was his fault. He looked at his hands. Billions of Alderaanians. He'd always thought of himself as helping the Empire bring peace and stability to the galaxy. It was everyone else bringing war. Maybe he _was_ naive.

The door slid open. The man he'd first spoken to in the street stood on the other side. "Come on," he said. "Let's go."

Tycho followed him out to the airlock where they'd docked. "Do you think I'm naive?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, you heard that." He put in the code to unlock the door.

"Yeah. Do you think so?"

The man gave him a once-over look. "Yeah," he said. "Kind of." The door unlocked. He led Tycho through the bigger ship to yet another small room. "Wait here," he said. He left and locked the door.

This room was pretty much the same as the other one: one table, two chairs. But no guards, and no restraints. Tycho sighed and sat in the far chair.

The door slid open and a tall, younger woman walked in alone. Tycho thought she looked vaguely familiar, but couldn't quite place her. She sat down in the other chair and placed a datapad in front of her. "Good morning," she said.

Tycho supposed it was morning. His sense of time was completely disrupted. "Good morning," he said.

She gave him a quick glance, then looked back down at the datapad. "Tycho Celchu, Imperial Navy Flight Officer, homeworld Alderaan, galactic standard birthdate, 2 BFE…" She paused. "Five, 25. Is that correct?"

Tycho felt a flash of defiance. "No."

She looked up at him. "No?"

"I'm not an Imperial Navy Flight Officer anymore," he said.

She regarded him passively for a moment, then gave him a single, respectful nod. "Of course," she said. "Forgive me. The rest is accurate?"

Tycho felt his defiance slip away. "Yes."

"Is that 'Celchu' as in the Novacomm holonet provider?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "The owner is - was - my father."

"Year of company instantiation?"

"Thirteen BFE."

Her hand hovered over the datapad. She glanced up at him with a small frown. "You're certain?"

"Of course I'm certain." Why did they care about this?

She frowned a bit more and tapped the datapad. "When did you -?"

"It doesn't matter, it doesn't exist anymore," Tycho snapped.

The woman folded her hands in front of her as if she were trying to compose her herself. Tycho could see the pained look on her face. "I'm sorry," Tycho said. "I - I'm sorry. You're just - you're just trying to make sure I am who I say I am."

"It's all right," she said quietly. She reached for the datapad. "When did you -?"

"No wait!" Tycho interrupted her again. "It was fifteen BFE."

She looked up at him. "Fifteen BFE?"

"I - yes, fifteen BFE. I - I'm certain this time."

She nodded a bit and typed into the datapad.

He watched her, and suddenly it clicked. "Are you from Alderaan?" he asked. She looked familiar, she was verifying his background. It made sense.

She kept typing for a moment. "Yes," she said, finally.

Tycho leaned forward. "Can you tell me?" he said. "Please." It was one thing for some random rebel to say it, but if another Alderaanian said it… "Please. Is it true? They said - he said - it was just an asteroid field, nothing left. Is it true?" He waited.

She took a deep breath and looked directly at him. "Yes," she said. "It's true."

Tycho stared back at her. He could feel the tears welling up. And then all of the anxiety and uncertainty and fear of the past two weeks came spilling over. It really was true. He really had watched them die. He really had been lied to. Never in his life had ever wanted to go home more. And he couldn't.

Tycho could feel her hand slip into his from across the table. "I'm sorry," she said.

Tycho instinctually gripped her hand. "Please," he said between sniffs, "can you tell me why? Why did they do this?"

"I'm sorry," she said again. "The circumstances are...classified, for the moment."

"Please," he begged again. "I need to know."

"As an Alderaanian, you deserve to know the truth," she said. "Once you've been vetted properly, I'll arrange it for you."

Tycho felt his shoulders sink. _Once I've been vetted properly_… "I'm not a spy," he said. "Please."

Tycho felt her withdraw her hand from his. He shuddered and placed his hands in his lap. He couldn't look at her.

"When was your academy start date?" she asked.

"Sixteen AFE," Tycho said quietly. "Seven, 1."

"Secondary school name?"

"Alta-teryx Academy." His voice cracked.

"Graduation date?"

"Six...sixteen AFE, 5...5, 15," he said.

She was silent. Tycho did not look up to see what she was doing. After a moment, her chair scraped against the floor. "Someone will be in to get you in a moment," she said. The door slid open, and slid shut. And locked. Tycho rested his forehead on the table and waited.

* * *

The rebel ship landed at a base on a planet Tycho didn't know the name of. He felt marginally better. He'd been given a proper room for the remainder of the trip, and been allowed to eat and sleep and shower. They'd even given him an extra mechanics jumpsuit for something clean to wear.

The base looked like a smattering of makeshift buildings built in the shadow of a large rock formation. He could see a couple of X-Wings coming in for a landing in the distance. _Must be a hangar over there,_ he thought. He was led in the other direction to a small gated area, where he was told to wait outside a door. His escort came back a few minutes later with another person. "Come on, this way," the second person said. Tycho followed them inside the gated area to another small building with two doors. "Soooo," the second person said, handing Tycho a small key, "this opens the door on the left. That's yours, at least for now. Not sure what you're used to, but don't expect any five star accommodations or anything like that." He pointed behind him. "There's a droid-operated mess over there, and a common refresher over there. You don't have to stay in the room if you don't want to. But, you can't leave the gated area without an escort. Someone will come along at some point. I'm not in charge of that part. Any questions?"

"I...guess not," Tycho said.

"All right, well, good luck." The two of them gave Tycho a wave and walked away.

Tycho looked out at the landscape. It was a beautiful planet, mostly rock, with small pockets of vegetation dotting the plane. He opened the door to the room with his key. If he had to rate it, it was barely one-star accommodations. Just a bedframe, with a mattress, pillow, and blanket. Not even a chair. _When I thought the rebellion was resource poor, I didn't think they were _this_ resource poor, _he thought. _Or maybe they just aren't prepared for people to come in this way."_ He set his dirty civilian clothes on the floor by the door. He put the key in his pocket and walked around the gated area. It took all of ten minutes. There were a few other people, who probably had rooms just like his. Tycho decided he wasn't interested in talking to anyone. He went back to his room and laid down on the bed. There was nothing else to do.

A short time later, there was a knock on the door. Tycho answered it. A short human male stood outside. "Tycho Celchu?" he said, glancing at his datapad.

"Yes?"

"Lieutenant Drell, Rebel Intelligence. Follow me please."

Tycho followed him out of the gated area to a larger building. Once again, he was left in a small room, this time with a table and three chairs, two on one side, one on the other. Tycho sat in the single chair. Two men entered the room, one human, and one Tycho was fairly certain was a Bothan. They sat across from him. "Let's see," the human said. "Tycho Celchu, Imperial Navy Flight Officer, homeworld Alderaan, galactic standard birthdate 2 BFE, 5, 25. Is that correct?"

Tycho didn't have the energy to argue. "Yes."

The man proceeded to ask Tycho about his academy time. Dates, locations, classes, instructors. After two hours, Tycho was exhausted. Lieutenant Drell escorted him back to the room. "We're going to do this again tomorrow," he said. "Recommend you eat breakfast first."

And that was how the days went. Lieutenant Drell escorted him to and from the room every day. And every day Tycho spent hours recounting every aspect of the past three years of his life. Every mission briefing, every intelligence briefing, every flight tactic. He lost count of the days. He asked Lieutenant Drell once where he was from. He said he was from Dromal IV. Tycho asked if it was nice there. He said, not anymore. Tycho didn't ask any more questions. He didn't talk to the few others in the gated area and they didn't talk to him. He was pretty sure they weren't prisoners, per se. Sometimes in the evening, he would come back to the room and find something new on the bed, like a hygiene kit or clothes. It made him feel somewhat normal. Still, there were days he wished he had gone home for his birthday. It would have been so much less complicated…

One morning, Lieutenant Drell left him in the room, as usual. A man entered, alone, and sat down across from Tycho. "Let's see," he said, looking at a datapad. "Tycho Celchu, former Imperial Navy Flight Officer, homeworld Alderaan, galactic standard birthdate 2 BFE, 5, 25. Is that correct?"

Tycho frowned. Every interview started the same way. Except...former. That was new. "Yes," he said.

"TIE fighter pilot?"

"Yes."

"Top of your flight class?"

"Yes."

"You ever fly anything other than TIE fighters?"

Tycho wondered where this was going. "Just shuttles," he said. "You know, point to point."

"No other fighters?"

"No."

The man looked up at him with a small smile. "You want to?"

"Want to - what?" he asked.

"Fly other fighters," he said. He leaned back in the chair. "We've got X-Wings and Y-Wings mostly, a few A-Wings and B-Wings floating around. There's a motley collection of other stuff, shuttles, frigates, freighters. But you seem like an X-Wing kind of guy to me."

"Who are you?" Tycho asked.

The man reached out to shake Tycho's hand. "Major Arre Thurm, Rebel Recruiting."

"Recruiting!?" Tycho shook his hand, not sure what to make of this.

"What do you think?" Major Thurm said. "You want to?"

Tycho thought back to the X-Wing probe above Feleen 2. _I could do that…_ "Yes," he said.

"I can't guarantee you an airframe," Major Thurm said.

"I understand."

"You might be flying with people you've shot at before."

"I - I understand." Tycho frowned.

"You might be shooting at people you used to fly with."

Tycho wondered at the likelihood of actually flying against Cal or Adan or Salta. Probably very low. "I understand." Major Thurm raised an eyebrow. "Do you always recruit by selling the negatives?" Tycho asked.

Major Thurm leaned forward. "I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into. Most people here, they're not here for the pay, which is small, when it comes at all. They're not here for the prestige - if someone has that, they probably also have one or more Imperial bounty pucks floating around with their face on it. They're here to do a job. Is that you? Or not?"

Tycho looked at him. There were probably a thousand other things he could do with himself eventually. But he could never go home. And those thousand other things would probably not help prevent this from happening again. "Yes," Tycho said. "That's me."

Major Thurm grinned. He reached across the table and shook Tycho's hand again. "Tycho Celchu, welcome to the Rebel Alliance."


	4. Chapter 4: Home

Tycho caught on to the X-Wing fairly quickly. Basic flight principles were the same in any craft, but the controls did take a bit of time to get used to. The Alliance only had a handful of simulators, so he could only be in one for a short time most days. Otherwise, he spent his time in the common areas of the base, mostly keeping to himself and listening to other people talk. He learned quickly that it was probably better to keep his background to himself.

"Where are you from?" someone asked him one day at a mess table.

"Alderaan," Tycho answered before thinking.

"Oh!" A woman Tycho had not spoken to before leaned his way. "I wondered how many Alderaanians were here," she said. "Where were you when, you know, you found out?"

"Sheva! You cannot ask those questions! It is rude," a Duros on the other side of the table yelled at her.

"Oh." Sheva sat back in her seat. "Sorry," she said.

"I am sure he was just trying to go about his life without being bothered," the Duros finished.

"Right. Sure," Tycho mumbled. He quietly excused himself and took a walk around the compound.

On another day, he was waiting to use some simulators with a group of pilots who had come in from other squadrons. They were trading stories about what squadrons and Rebel cells they had come from, before Alliance Command started consolidating everyone. Someone asked him what cell he had been a part of.

"I wasn't," Tycho said. "I'm just...here."

"Oh, you trying to switch over from ground ops to flight ops?" someone asked.

"I - no," Tycho said. "I've always been a pilot."

"Part of another cell?"

"No."

"Cargo pilot?"

"No."

"Freighter pilot?"

Tycho sighed. "No."

"So...what did you fly?"

Tycho squirmed a bit and felt stuck. "TIE fighters," he said.

Everyone stared at him. "Like, Imperial TIE fighters?"

Tycho resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. "Yes, Imperial TIE fighters," he said.

"Oh, you're a defector!"

Tycho perked up. "Right," he said. "That's right. About a month and a half ago."

"Hang on." Someone who looked vaguely familiar jumped into the conversation. "Didn't I hear you say once you were from Alderaan?"

"I - yes," Tycho said.

"How does that work?"

"How does what work?" Tycho asked.

"Being from Alderaan and being, you know, an Imp."

Tycho wished someone would come interrupt them to say their simulators were ready. "The same way it does for anyone else, I imagine," he said. "You go to the Academy, graduate, get assigned somewhere…"

"Did you defect before or after they blew up Alderaan?"

Tycho hesitated. "After," he said. He saw some people exchange skeptical looks. He remembered being called a "naive little twit." "Does it matter?" he asked. "I'm here now." Would he have to defend himself on this the rest of his life?

"Just saying, sounds odd."

But they dropped it, to Tycho's relief.

Tycho also discovered a healthy rumor mill among the pilots and mechanics. At dinner one evening, as he sat at the end of a long table by himself, he overheard the latest from a group on the other side of the table.

"I know where I'm going to be assigned next."

"Yeah, where?"

"Rogue Squadron, Command's new elite X-Wing unit. That's what all the extra training is for. They're trying to fix a roster. I'm going to be on it."

"You got blown up twice yesterday."

"I heard about that too. There's already a commander and XO."

"I heard the Commander is Luke Skywalker himself!"

"Hero of the Battle of Yavin, Luke Skywalker? Oh wow."

Tycho started listening more closely.

"And the XO is Wedge Antilles, the other X-Wing survivor."

"I heard Skywalker is a Jedi!"

"That's why he was able to blow up the Death Star! Without a targeting computer!"

"Can you imagine, Jedi back in the galaxy again?"

"Yeah, it's like this isn't a lost cause after all. We can actually win."

Tycho thought back to Salta's rumors about a Jedi. What a contrast it was. She had seemed merely amused at the idea. Cal was angry, but Adan had actually seemed afraid. But here...it gave people hope. It gave them purpose and confidence. And if a Jedi could really do what they said? Maybe the Empire was right to be afraid.

* * *

Tycho was on his way to the simulators when someone stopped him. "Celchu!"

Tycho turned. It was one of the captains in charge of the simulator schedule. "Yes?"

"Here," he said handing him a couple of datapads. "Orders for you."

"Orders?" Tycho turned the pads around to open up the documents.

"Yeah, one is promotion orders - congratulations Lieutenant - and the other one is assignment orders." He started to walk away.

Tycho shook his head. He would have needed at least another year in the Imperial Navy to make lieutenant. He opened up the assignment orders and his jaw dropped. "Hey wait!" he called out. "Where am I supposed to go?"

The captain turned back around. "I don't know. What does it say?"

"Rogue Squadron."

The captain frowned. "Rogue Squadron? Oh yeah, Rogue Squadron. They're new, not sure where that office is. If they even have one. Might try…" he turned around a couple of times, "that way?" he suggested pointing behind Tycho's left shoulder. "Don't really know. You'll have to ask someone else." He waved and started to walk away again. "Good luck!"

Tycho watched him leave, then slowly headed off in the direction the captain had pointed. He walked out of the training area and into a courtyard. He hadn't really been this way before. People were walking in all directions, obviously knowing their way around. Tycho turned to look around. Who could he ask? What could he ask? _Hey, do you know where Luke Skywalker's office is?_ Sure. Tycho looked at the orders again. There was no office number or location to report to.

Tycho took a couple of steps backward as he tried to pick a direction and nearly fell. "Whoa! Oh, hey." He looked down to see that he had stumbled over a blue and white astromech droid that was whistling heartily at him. "Oh, um, I'm, sorry…" Tycho wasn't used to talking to droids. And he still couldn't understand astromechs without a translator. This one kept twittering at him. "I'll um, just watch where I'm going next time," he said. He took a few steps away from the droid and it followed him.

The next couple of twitters almost sounded like a question. Tycho took a wild guess. "Are you asking where I'm going?" Two short whistles Tycho took to be a yes. "I'm looking for the Rogue Squadron office," he said. The droid started rocking back and forth, making excited noises. "Oh, I guess you know where it is." The droid started to roll off in the opposite direction, then looked back at Tycho and whistled. "Oh, you want me to follow you," Tycho said. "Okay." _What a quirky little droid,_ Tycho thought.

Tycho followed the droid through the courtyard, behind several other buildings. Tycho wondered what a Jedi was actually like. He imagined someone slightly older, confident, wise-looking. He'd have to be a heck of a pilot, if nothing else. The droid stopped at a smaller building on the outer edge of the cluster. It seemed like an odd spot for an elite squadron. Until Tycho noticed nearby pathway around the back of the buildings that seemed to go back toward the command area.

The droid twittered at him again. Tycho knocked lightly on the door. "Come in!" someone called. Tycho opened the door and stepped inside. "Hi," he said, and stared for a moment. There were two men in the room, one with sandy blonde hair, sitting behind a desk, and the other with dark hair, leaning against a wall. They looked _young. _At least as young as Tycho, if not more so. Was he in the right spot? The droid pushed past him into the room.

"Oh, hi R2," the one behind the desk said. "You found him?" The droid twittered. He stood up and extended a hand to Tycho. He had a boyish, but warm smile. "Tycho Celchu?"

Tycho took his hand and shook it. "Yeah, I, think I got a bit lost…"

"No problem," he said. "I know this room is hard to find. That's why I sent R2 looking for you. We just got your packet in. I'm Luke Skywalker."

The other one walked over and offered his hand. "Wedge Antilles," he said. "You're the first pilot we've had assigned to the roster so far, so we're glad to see you. Have a seat."

"Thanks," Tycho said. He sat down, bracing himself for the inevitable questions on his background.

"You've already met R2," Luke said. "He's my astromech droid. I've been using him to runs ops while we get things up and running. So if he tells you something, it's probably because one of us told him to."

"_Probably,_" Wedge added, with a small smirk.

Luke laughed a bit. "Yeah, sometimes R2 likes to do his own thing." He waved it off. "He usually has a good reason though."

"I'll remember that," Tycho said. They seemed to have a good sense of humor at least. Tycho took a quick glance around the room. It was pretty sparse, with just one other chair, a small comms console in the corner, and a few datapads spread out on the desk. He also spotted a silver cylindrical item that he didn't recognize.

"Your flight scores are really good," Wedge continued. "Especially being brand new to an X-Wing."

Was that the opening? "It turned out to be more intuitive than I thought," Tycho said. "It's a good airframe."

"I was looking over your packet earlier," Luke said, "and I have a question for you."

Tycho's stomach tightened a bit. _Here it comes. _"Sure," he said.

"Do you know how to construct simulator packages?"

Tycho blinked. That was not the question he was expecting. "Simulator packages?"

"Yeah, for training. Have you done that before?"

"Oh," Tycho said. "We covered it briefly at...at, the academy… That was a couple of years ago now, but I could probably re-figure it out."

"Great!" Luke said. "I've got a project you can work on. You probably noticed there aren't a lot of simulators here. Once we get a full roster in a couple of weeks, we'll get about a week of priority to finalize the fight order. We got a whole bunch of information in about TIE fighter tactics - it just occurred to me you might have given them some of this stuff - and I want something ready to go for everyone they might not have seen before. You'll have R2 to help you. Is that something you think you can do?"

"Yeah, I definitely answered a lot of questions about that," Tycho said. Maybe all those hours of questioning weren't such a waste after all. "I think I can do that."

"Great," Luke said, as he reached for another datapad. "Let me - whoops." His hand knocked the cylindrical object to the floor.

"Is that a lightsaber?" Tycho blurted out. That's what Jedi had, lightsabers, right?

"Oh, this?" he said, as he picked it up. "I - yeah, it is." Luke suddenly seemed embarrassed. "It, yeah, sorry about that. I'm not used to other people being in here." He put it in a drawer of the desk. "Let's see, what was I - oh yeah." He reached for a datapad again.

Just then, the door whooshed open and a golden protocol droid came rushing in. "Oh, Master Luke, sir, I'm so glad I found you, I have an urgent -"

"Threepio," Wedge said.

"- message from Princess Leia. She has returned -"

"Threepio!" Wedge said.

"Oh, yes, Captain Antilles, yes?"

"Aren't you a protocol droid?"

"Oh yes sir!" the droid exclaimed. "As you know I am programmed for etiquette and -"

"Doesn't protocol include knocking?" Wedge said.

"Oh," he said. "Well, yes." The droid looked around as if not sure what to do next. Tycho caught Luke not trying to hide a grin.

"What do you need Threepio?" Luke asked.

"Oh." The droid collected himself. "Princess Leia has returned from her mission sir, and she says she would urgently like to speak with you."

"Oh good, Leia's back," Luke said as he stood up. "Let's go see what she wants. Oh, Threepio, this is Lieutenant Tycho Celchu, our new Rogue Squadron pilot. R2 is going to help him with a project, so why don't you and R2 pull some data so they can get started when we get back?"

"Oh, yes, Master Luke, certainly." He turned to Tycho. "Greetings sir! I am C-3PO, human cyborg relations!"

"Um, hi," Tycho said.

"We'll be back later," Luke said, and he pulled Tycho out the door along with Wedge.

"He wears me out," Wedge said after the door had shut.

"They're both a bit quirky," Luke said to Tycho. "You'll get used to them."

They turned down the back path toward the command area. Tycho wondered how Leia might react to him. Should he say anything? Apologize? Maybe she'd decide not to say anything to him at all.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked.

"Hmm?"

"Have you...met Leia before?" Wedge asked.

Tycho blinked. Of course, they'd read his file. "No," he said. "I mean, I know who she is. Obviously. But no, I've never met her."

"Oh, okay," Luke said as they entered the command area. He stopped and looked around. "Oh there she is. Leia!" He waved.

A short, young woman with a round face and long, braided hair, jumped up from where she was sitting and ran over to them. Cal hadn't been wrong. She did have a pretty face. "Luke!" she said as she gave him a big hug, "I'm glad you're here! Hi Wedge," she said.

"Hi Leia. How was your trip?" Wedge asked.

"Great," she said. She looked at Luke. "I met with the Pantoran ambassador and he was very interested in giving us his support. I told him all about you," she added. "He was very excited to know you were here."

"I - Leia, that's great," Luke said. Tycho glanced at Wedge. He was frowning a bit.

"I have another meeting with him next week," Leia continued. "I need you to come along and -"

"But Leia -"

"- meet him -"

"No, Leia, I can't," Luke said. "We're starting to get our pilots in, we just got our first one today."

"Oh, you did!" Leia said.

"Yeah." Luke pushed Tycho forward a bit. "Leia, this is Tycho Celchu, our first pilot assigned to Rogue Squadron."

Leia started to extend her hand, then dropped it slightly as the name registered. She frowned a bit. "Celchu as in Novacomm?" she asked.

"Yes, that's right," Tycho said. He wasn't sure what else to say.

Leia narrowed her eyes slightly and stared at him for a moment. "That's right, I remember being told you came in," she said. She looked at him a moment longer, then let her face soften. She pulled herself up to her full senatorial height and gave him a small, professional smile. "Well, you're here now, so that's what matters," she said. "I'm sure Rogue Squadron will be good for you. Luke and Wedge are the best." She turned back to Luke. "I need to go check in with General Dodonna. I'll catch up with you later, okay?" She waved to them and walked off.

Tycho looked at the floor. _That certainly could have been worse,_ he thought. He looked up to see Luke and Wedge looking at him with concern.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked.

"What was that all about?" Wedge asked.

Tycho took a deep breath. "So, I've never met her," he said. "But, my father owned the company Novacomm, which was the largest holonet provider on Alderaan. Most of my family were Imperial supporters. That's why I went to the academy in the first place. My father was a vocal critic of the royal family and of Leia in particular as a senator. So, she knows my name."

"Ohh," Wedge said.

Tycho looked at the floor again. "But, like she said, I'm here, so, there's that." The phrase sounded better when he was defending himself with it, rather than having it thrown at him.

Luke stood in front of him and put his hands on Tycho's shoulders. Tycho looked up. Luke still looked really young, but there was a sudden wisdom in his expression.

"Let me tell you something," Luke said. "I've only been here a couple of months myself. Wedge has been here a couple of years. You'll see a lot of people walking around. They're all here for their own reasons. Sometimes it's personal, sometimes it's philosophical, sometimes it's a bit more material. A lot of people are defectors, just like you. Some have been doing this for a decade or more. Some people were just trying to live their lives and ended up here. Most of us...most of us don't have any meaningful homes or families to go back to. This is it. This is home. People don't always agree around here. But one thing we do all agree on is that the Empire cannot stay. The galaxy deserves better than this and we can make that happen." Luke paused. "I guess the only bad reason to be here is if you're a spy."

Tycho shook his head. "I'm not a spy," he said.

Luke gave his shoulders a squeeze. "I know you're not," he said.

Tycho felt himself smile. The first real one in months.

Wedge draped an arm around Tycho's shoulders. "I think you'd make a terrible spy anyway," he said.

Tycho threw him a bemused look. "Thanks?" he said.

Luke and Wedge laughed. "Come on," Luke said. "Let's go back to the squad room, and we can get you started on your project."

Tycho walked with them back along the path, still smiling. _This is it,_ he thought. _This is home._

End


End file.
